Place Like Home
by Verboten Byacolate
Summary: Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love. SuFin


_Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love!  
-Hamilton Wright Mabie

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When he finally made his way back into the house, the sun had not yet lifted her golden halo over the horizon, and Sealand was fixing to give him a anheurism. The child had been waiting in the dark front hall, and when Tino stepped through the door, battling a snowy breeze, a small child had launched himself against his waist.

"Mama! Mama!"

"Not your mama," Finland replied automatically with a weary smile. "Good morning, Peter."

Sealand grinned wide and held on tighter. "What'd you bring me? Huh? Huh? Can I beat that jerk England with it? Can I open it now, _pleeease_?"

Somehow managing to shuffle his way into the living room after shucking his coat and all layers down to a simple turtleneck sweater with Peter clinging to his legs, Finland glanced up to see a drowsy giant sprawled out comfortably on the couch. Berwald was sipping a cup of something warm and probably sweet, an inviting quilt spread over his legs, illuminated in winking polychrome from the Christmas lights adorning the tall, tall tree. "Ask your father."

With that, Peter detached himself from Finland and instead hopped into Berwald's lap like a jumping bean. "Papa, _pleeease_?"

"Morn', Fin," the Swede mumbled to his partner. Finland smiled sweetly in return.

"Good morning, Sve." He nodded at the mug. "Coffee?"

"Ling'nb'rry cid'r," he replied, "but th're's some coffee on th' stove."

Finland walked into the kitchen as Sealand whined, making sure Sweden knew how displeased he was that they were ignoring his needs, smiling tiredly to himself. When he'd returned with a steaming cup of Godsend, Peter was doing an odd little dance in the middle of the floor, looking back and forth from Sweden to the ornamental sack Finland had left by the doorstep. Tino raised a brow.

"Do you need to use the potty, Peter?"

Sealand frowned. "Don't call it that! And no! I want to open my present!" Sweden cocked a brow at him and Sealand whined. "But Papa's making that weird face!"

"What weird face?" Finland asked, stepping around the arm of the sofa to peer into Berwald's supposedly weird face. The only look he saw there was bemusement.

"That one! I never know if it means I can get what I want, or if I'm gonna get sent to Greenland's house!"

Berwald's face did get a bit funny at that, and Tino burst out laughing, clutching his stomach with his free hand. Sealand looked confused, and Sweden... well, Sweden was Sweden. "You can open your presents, Peter," Finland finally conceded, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye. Sealand didn't waste any time, jumping on his chance. His upper torso disappeared inside the sack singing something like, '_My mama is Saaanta_', and feeling rather light from the rush of endorphins and the warmth of his home, Tino flopped in between Berwald's sprawled legs, burrowing his chin into the warmth of the powder blue turtleneck and sipping at the black coffee between his palms.

"Long night?"

Berwald jolted and Finland daintily mouthed the rim of the mug. He glanced over at the lightly flushed Swede.

"Ah... mm," Sweden finally confessed, keeping his eyes securely trained on the wriggling bag and Hanatamago's fascination with it. "You too."

"Well, you know, Christmas Eve and all."

"Mm."

Finland smiled and turned himself around and wriggled beneath the blanket, skillfully keeping his coffee cup elevated despite the fray of movement and comfortably lounged in Berwald's lap against his chest. "You didn't need to stay up."

Berwald took a swig of the warmed cider and Finland breathed easily, taking in the scent of firewood and bitter lingonberries, of snow and pine and home. Of Sweden.

"Can't go with y'," he said after a moment. "Th'n I should at least stay up for y'."

Finland silently went over the rebuttals in his head. He was a man, he could take care of himself, he didn't need protection, Berwald's reasoning was silly, and so on. But it was sweet, and his intentions were good, and knowing Sweden he probably wouldn't have been able to go to sleep anyway. So Finland merely took Berwald's free hand and tugged the long, muscled arm over his waist and watched in contentment as Peter reappeared with a toy rifle, "just like Mama's", and a battalion of toy soldiers.

When the sun finally peeked over the crescent hills with its bright and cheerful glow, two old nations were rather unaware, caught in sleep's inescapable web as General Peter jumped about in his bedroom, launching ingenious battle tactics at his dastardly enemy, Fuzzy Brows, as played by a fairly disinterested Hanatamago. And so another Christmas passed in the cozy home, spent in blessed sleep and quiet play.

At least until Sealand decided he wanted lunch.

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From the fanbook. Merry early Christmas, SuFinites!


End file.
